Crutches
by Reuben deFlash
Summary: When Blake Collins has a brief connection with a girl, he is startled when she joins MSA. Putting personal feelings aside, he strives to come to the bottom of her dependance on dance and makes a startling discovery about himself on the way.
1. A Brief Encounter

**A/N - I know, _another_ OC story with Blake but I wanted to do a student/teacher one, and I wasn't ready to do a Blandie so...this is the result! Enjoy!**

**Oh and please review it, even if you hate it. I don't mind.**

Chapter 1 - A Brief Encounter

Blake Collins nodded and excused himself from the conversation, making some excuse about going to use the bathroom and slipped into the grand foyer of the house where it was marginally cooler. The dining room, now busy with over thirty people and that not including staff, was becoming unbearably hot and loud and Blake didn't have the patience to keep up a conversation with Edward Fenton much longer. The man was insufferable and had talked entirely about himself the whole evening and nothing else. Blake knew he had to excuse himself when Edward tried to tell him that the underline theme of Swan Lake could be construed as feministic.

"It's a love story," Blake had said, exasperated but hiding it behind a glass of orange juice and a forced smile.

"You seem a little testy Mr. Collins," Edward had crooned, "perhaps you're not used to being challenged in your views?" The room of men and woman laughed and Blake couldn't believe it had come to this.

Turning down another corridor, Blake managed to find a bathroom; brightly lit and far too big to feel homely. He detested dinner parties but his mother had insisted he went seeing as Major Cross was an old friend of his father's, and had only just returned from military duties in Iraq. Blake stared at himself in the mirror and noticed how tired he looked at the moment. Washing his hands and splashing his face with some cold water, Blake psyched himself up to go back to the party. With a final look at himself he frowned. He should have worn a tie. Everyone else was wearing a tie.

Closing the door softly behind him, he began to make his way back through to the dining room. He past the grand staircase, which was the centrepiece of the room in which you first entered from the outside. Lavish, gold and ivory laced its way around the banister and a rich burgundy carpet covered the mahogany wood it was made from. He had seen it a thousand times in his youth when his family had frequented Cross Manor. Movement on the top of the stairs caught his eye. Blake stopped.

A woman, younger than him he thought, was skipping down to him, each foot treading very lightly. She was not part of the party he could tell; she was not wearing a gown for a start, in fact, she was dressed in a t-shirt and sweat pants and her dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Noticing him staring at her, she stopped and opened her mouth in surprise.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't," she started, "Well, you did but...it's ok." She looked awkward and unwelcoming as she crossed her arms and stood up straight.

"You're part of the dinner party?" she asked, looking at his suit.

"Er, yes, yes," he murmured, wondering why he was having a conversation with her. He glanced down at her feet and frowned slightly.

"Well, if you excuse me," she said, trying smile and turning on her heels to head back up the staircase.

"Wait," he found himself saying, as he went to the bottom of the staircase. She turned and looked at him, not bothering to disguise the fact that she was anxious to get away. "Yes?" she asked, sounding mildly irritated.

"Sorry," he apologised. "But you're a dancer aren't you?"

She looked at him in surprise. "I...yes, how did..." she crossed her arms again. "How did you know?" she queried with a frown.

"You stand with your feet in first position," he said with a faint smile. "Only people who have been dancing for a long time do that."

She nodded and for the first time gave him the hint of a smile. She headed down a few steps. "Yes, I'm a dancer. Since I was five."

He nodded and felt a sense of ego boosting pride. His instincts were never usually wrong.

"You're Mr. Collins aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes, Blake Collins." He paused. "Have we met before?"

"No, no. I recognised your face."

He felt himself blushing and was grateful that the hall was not as well lit as the bathroom. "Oh, I see."

"Well, I'm going this way," she smiled weakly, pointing up the stairs. "I'm kind of...in my pyjamas," she added, sounding embarrassed.

"You're not part of Major Cross' dinner?" he said with a frown. She shook her head with a bitter laugh. "I _hate _parties," she said, turning once more. ""It was nice to meet you."

He nodded and carried on walking towards the noise.

"Wait, wait!" she called. He stopped in his tracks confused. "I'm sorry," she said, walking down the stairs until she was at his level. She was tall but still shorter than him, was wearing very little make-up and he could see now the outline of a thin, silvery scar on her the side of her head, almost hidden by her fringe.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I can't pass the opportunity up. I need help with a step in something I'm working on and well, you're kind of the expert."

He raised an eyebrow and looked back to the door where the party was. "Ok, quickly though."

She smiled gratefully and moved to the centre of the room where there was more space. "Ok, in part of it I got from the pas de bourree to the pirouette but then before these chaînés turns..." she stepped through each move slowly and carefully and Blake could see the concentration clearly on her face. "But the step in-between just lacks any sort of..."

"Definition?"

"Yes! And it's messy too." She sighed and placed her hands on her hips.

Blake had his finger to his lips in thought and closed his eyes briefly before saying," Just walk through it again. Please."

She did so. "Ok, I think you should perhaps insert a tombe after the pirouette and then when you do the chaînés turns finish in fourth with the arms."

She nodded and tried it out. He watched carefully and as she finished, he smiled. "Yes, that's much better. Does it feel better?"

She nodded suddenly bashful. He stepped forward. "Just remember though; when you're in fourth...may I?" he asked raising his arms to position hers. She nodded. "Extend the fingers like so..." he moved her fingers, his own hands brushing hers gently, "And the whole position seems so much more elegant." She nodded quietly.

A loud chink of someone's glass hitting someone else's came from the dining room and Blake realised he had stood holding her hands for longer than necessary. Dropping them like they were something hot, he smiled and stepped back. "I need to get back."

"Thank you, for your help," she said, the same cold face returning. "It was a pleasure, Mr. Collins."

She headed back up the stairs for the final time and Blake sighed deeply as he pushed open the door to the dining room.

"Blake!" his father called out from across the room. "We'd wondered where you'd got to!"

"I just..." he went to say but Edward had already begun to speak over him. "He probably didn't want to carry on our conversation; feeling beat, Mr. Collins?" Blake fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I went to the bathroom _actually_," he found himself saying, too tired to mask his irritation.

He didn't think to mention the girl to anyone. She had never told him her name or said what she was doing there but he, being the only one to have seen her, began to doubt her and think of her as an apparition. He was tired after all. How often did beautiful women ask for his advice these days?


	2. Neglect

Chapter 2 – Neglect

Blake was reading the paper when Chase finally surfaced from the bathroom and poured himself some Captain Crunch. "You know", Blake said without looking up at sleepy eyed boy opposite him, "you should try and _chew _that pathetic excuse for a breakfast cereal rather than absorbing it."

Chase stopped, mouthful and wagged his spoon at Blake. "Wow, you are in a good mood today Blake." Blake smirked at Chase, who looked back to his bowl, pushing the corn pieces around. "So, how was the dinner party?"

Blake groaned and folded the paper. "Just another giant pain in my ass," he said. "It was...weird. Plus..._Edward Fenton _was there." Chase echoed the groan with food in his mouth. "I _hate _him. He said that feminism had its roots in street dancing."

"He certainly does have some hang ups," Blake commented. He paused. "There was...a girl."

"A girl?" Chase's face immediately split into a huge grin which made Blake regret mentioning it. "Way to go, Golden Boy."

Blake gave him a disapproving glare and shook his head. "Not like _that_. I _met_ a girl. Or rather I saw one. She was obscure." He rolled his eyes. "I don't know why I'm even mentioning it to _you._"

Chase ignored him and, finishing his breakfast, pushed the bowl away from him. "Obscure huh? Was she hot?"

"_Hot? _Chase, you are Fenton's worst nightmare. Could you sound more chauvinistic?"

"Was she pretty Blake? Answer the question." Chase stared at him intently and breaking the eye contact would mean defeat. Nevertheless, he looked away and put the carton of orange juice back in the refrigerator. "Yes, yes. I suppose. She was very pretty."

Chase laughed and whooped. "Hot dog, there lays a still-beating heart underneath that steely exterior of yours."

"I said she was attractive Chase, not that I was _in love_ with her."

Chase winked as he put his bowl in the sink. "Small details bro. What did you do?"

"Just talked, Chase." He paused, remembering. "She was a dancer."

"You gonna see her again?"

Blake threw his arms up in exasperation. "I don't even know her name!"

Chase stared at him, ruffling his blonde hair and finally putting a hat on it. "Wait, wait. There was hot girl who actually _willingly _spoke to you, and you didn't think to ask her name?" Chase tutted under his breath. "I don't suppose you got her number then."

Blake ignored him.

"Well," Chase said, exhaling. "I know what _I _would have done in that situation..."

"Yes, but you have Andie," Blake said snidely pushing him out of the way of the sink so he could wash up the breakfast things.

"Ah yes," Chase said wistfully. "What a woman." Blake rolled his eyes.

"That's why, buddy, we need to get you a bit romance," Chase laughed, wrapping an arm around his brother's neck and rubbing his hair.

"Chase, get...off...me," Blake said angrily, struggling to get free. Chase relented and ran upstairs. "Whatever, Blake, but you know I'm right." He smirked and skipped up to his bedroom.

Blake shook his head. Sometimes he could not abide that smug little face.

*****

Andie bound past Blake and jumped onto the couch next to Chase and met him with a kiss. "No, really," Blake said sarcastically. "Make yourself at home."

Chase snaked an arm around her shoulders and switched over to the film she had come around to see. "Don't mind Blake. He's testy today."

"How come?" Andie said staring at the screen. Blake placed a bowl full of popcorn on the coffee table in front of them and shot a warning glare at Chase. Chase grinned, seeing an opportunity.

"Blake met a _girl..."_ he started. Andie shot up, her ponytail swinging and echoing her excitement. "Seriously?"

"For Pete's sake," Blake muttered before storming upstairs. "Enjoy the film..." he called down.

Andie turned to Chase. "What's that all about?"

Chase shook his head. "Blake met some girl at that dinner party he went to. He said she was _pretty_. _And_ a dancer." Andie let out a low whistle. "Yeah, but the idiot didn't take her name or her digits."

"What? I mean, yeah, he's shy but...he didn't think to ask her _name_?"

Chase sighed. "That's my brother for you. He doesn't think." He grinned. "All those ronde de jambes on the brain. It's damaging."

*****

Blake shut the door harder than he meant to and walked over to the window of his bedroom, which overlooked the street. He sighed. It was easier to take himself out of the room when Andie came round. Her and Chase were in the sickening early period of a relationship where all they wanted to do was be with each other and Blake had found out quite quickly that he didn't know how to handle it. Feeling like a third wheel was something he was not good at. But now, as he heard Andie laugh loudly at something Chase was saying, he felt a twinge. Love and relationships were something he had long neglected in his life; dance was his first love, and no one had compared so far.


	3. Worst Luck

Chapter 3 – Worst Luck

Blake awoke suddenly to the sound of his alarm clock and found he'd fallen asleep in his clothes, surrounded by paper and notes once again. Rubbing his eyes and propping himself up against his pillow, he wondered what time he had finally given out to the wave of weariness that had been threatening him all day yesterday. He hadn't heard Andie leave, and thinking about it, it may have been the low sound of the television downstairs that had lulled him into slumber. Dismissing it, Blake sat up, took a deep breath and went to shower.

It was the beginning of a new school year.

A new school year meant a lot of things. It meant that most of the Director's summer was taken up with timetable organisation and class placements and receiving applications from prospective students. It meant a new beginning for some and just a return to the usual for others. But mostly, to Blake at least, it meant auditions.

Andie West knew all too well what it felt like to be on the stage auditioning for a place in the prestigious dance school. It was nerve-racking, having the director, two board members and a thuggish looking Chase staring back at you. But Blake loved it. He loved to get the feel for what the students would be like. He liked to see how they would fare under pressure. He liked to see the dedication on their faces and the sweat on their brow.

Chase just liked to press play on the sound system.

Blake heard Chase slam the bathroom door as he returned to his bedroom, washed and changed. The students that already attended went about their normal studies while the audition process went on, so Andie, Moose, Sophie and the others would all be happily immersed within their lessons while Blake broke in new additions to the school. _Yeah, right_, he thought. He'd be lucky if they so much as lifted a foot in Classical Dance class while he wasn't around to bend their ears and break their backs. Especially Andie, who had managed to wriggle her way out of "remedial ballet" as Blake called it, since she had made it official with Chase. "I have so much going on," she'd pleaded. "I can't dedicate every night to it. Three lessons and that's my final offer."

Blake had raised an eyebrow and laughed. "I hadn't realised you were in a position to bargain, _Andrea_." He'd relented though, and bumped it down to three. "I wouldn't want to hinder your Chase Collins studies," he'd remarked sarcastically, making her glare at him.

He didn't mind so much. Andie wasn't a ballerina. And at least she still danced with Chase. If you could call it dance.

A couple of hours later and Blake pulled up to MSA to let Chase out before parking up. "I'll be in the auditorium," Chase said, slamming the door to the Range Rover. "I'll meet you in there," Blake nodded and putting his foot on the gas, he drove off to the parking lot.

"OK, ok," Blake said to himself, picking up the files from the back seat that he had worked on over the summer. "Let's go meet some dancers," he muttered. Closing the door to his car and trying to lock it one handed, he frowned but once he had heard the click and saw the flash of the central locking he shifted the weight of the folders in his arms and made head to the school.

He didn't get far.

There she was again, walking past the vehicles and heading to the school, waif like and frowning. Blake felt his mouth open, but he didn't call out. It wasn't until he saw a male student smile at her and she gave an awkward smile back that he was sure he was really seeing her; that she wasn't the ghostly apparition he'd imagined her to be.

What a difference daylight and normal clothes made to her, Blake thought as he followed her through the crowd. With a dark duffel bag slung over her shoulder and some papers in her hands, she wandered towards the school. Her hair, lighter than he'd remembered, was tied back in a neater bun this time so he could see the nape of her neck. It was completely obvious to him now, from the way she stood, the way she carried her head and body, that she danced.

She'd stopped in front of the steps looking confused. Blake paused and wondered if he should speak to her; Chase's words yesterday were ringing loudly in his ear. He _did _find her attractive. She certainly intrigued him. He was nearly thirty for goodness' sake. He should be able to approach a woman he liked.

But now she was gone.

In her place, a crowd of students from a school bus that had pulled up were walking to the entrance and he couldn't see her anymore. He blinked and then cursed inwardly. Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. Sighing, he walked in and was greeted by another teacher. Maybe Chase was right. It was about time he sorted out his love life. Seeing girls that may or may not exist was a worrying sign.

*****

Chase sniffed as the last ballerina stalked past him after her audition and leaned in to talk to the panel. "She wasn't a patch on the first twenty robots we had in here," he said snidely.

Blake shook his head disapprovingly as he scribbled down some notes. It was hot in the auditorium and he had long ditched the jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves up. "They are not robots Chase," he retorted. "However, and though I hate to admit it, Chase is right. She wasn't as skilled in her technique."

"You're right; she was a little sloppy. We'll put that one on the back burner," Matthew Rotherway said beside him. Susan Wakefield, a long necked black woman with a number two cut also shook her head. "The batch isn't great this year, Collins," she mused. "You'd better be ready to teach them, Blake," she added looking at him intently. He smiled confidently. "I'll be _fine._"

The next girl walked over and handed her mp3 player to Chase. "Track three, please," she said. Blake froze. He recognised the cold tone. Looking up from his notes, he saw her; plain as day and undeniably real. Chase was smiling at her. Susan had taken her admissions form. And now she was staring at him too.

"Oh," she said, colouring slightly. "Hello."

Once again, he was glad it was fairly dark. "Hello again," he said curtly, trying not to stare at her. Realisation dawned on him quickly. _A prospective student?_ He groaned inwardly. Chase cottoned on to the interaction immediately and pointed at her. "You two know each other?" he asked grinning.

"I met Director Collins at my father's dinner party the other night," she said, not returning the blonde boy's grin.

_Major Henry Cross' daughter? _Blake suddenly felt sick.

Chase was looking at Blake with a knowing expression. "Oh, really? The dinner party Saturday night?" he smiled. Blake shot him a quick warning glance that he hoped no one else saw.

"Yes, but only briefly," he said shortly.

"I'm Chase Collins," his brother crooned putting out a hand. "You are...?"

Before she could say, Blake looked at her form and said, "Elizabeth Cross," without setting his eyes on her. She frowned slightly and said, "Yes, thank you. But I prefer Elle, Mr. Collins."

Susan, who had to begun to notice some tension, smiled warmly at the girl and gestured to the stage. "You can go on and get ready now, Elle." The girl nodded politely and walked off to the wings to prepare.

Blake swallowed hard and looked down at her form before making notes on her performance. _29__th__ of October 1990...eighteen, nearly nineteen, _he thought. _She's only eighteen!_

He could feel Chase's heavy eyes on him but he kept his head down and frowned.

"I wonder if this one will be any good," Matthew sighed, tapping his own pen on the desk.

"I've seen her dance," Blake said, before he could bite his tongue. "She's an excellent ballerina."

"Yeah I'll bet," Chase murmured. Susan looked at him puzzled. "What was that, Chase?"

He smiled. "I hope so," he said, his eyes flickering towards his brother, who refused to look up, and leaning forward to press play.


	4. Mistakes

Chapter 4 – Mistakes

Chase caught up with his brother, who had managed to run away rather quickly after the auditions, and threw and arm around Blake's shoulder. "Elizabeth Cross," he said in a low voice next to his ear. "_Pretty _name."

"Shut up," Blake hissed, shirking Chase's arm off him. "Right now."

Chase grinned. "She's not so hot now?"

Blake stopped in his tracks and shoved his finger into Chase's chest. "Listen, and listen well. You will not speak about this ever again. Anything I may or may not have said to you about her is irrelevant now. Understand?" His voice came out in an angry whisper, with inflections that hurt almost as much as his finger pressing into Chase's sternum did.

"Ouch, bro," Chase said stepping back. "Back off."

Blake stepped with him. "I said, do you understand?"

Chase nodded, suddenly taking notice of the rage behind Blake's dark eyes. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

Blake inhaled deeply, nodded and removed his finger, before walking away and leaving Chase in the busy corridor of MSA.

*****

Blake stormed aimlessly through the school until he found himself at the entrance and pushed the door that lead out on to the street. It was just after lunch and students were wandering past him, returning to lessons. A couple acknowledged him. "Hey Director," one guy with dark rimmed glasses said before continuing his conversation with his friends. Blake merely nodded and decided that with auditions over, the best thing he could do was to go home.

Turning left and heading towards his car, he kept his head down. Flinging the files in his arms into the dark SUV with a little more force than necessary, Blake ran his fingers through his hair. It was warm, hotter than it had been inside the auditorium but Blake was feeling a heat spreading up the back of his neck for a different reason. How could he have been so _stupid_? He had immediately assumed on meeting her that she was older, she _looked _older. Blake swung open the door, jumped in and took a few moments for himself before driving off.

For the first time in his life, Blake Collins had asked no questions and it was exactly the occasion he should have; he _should have_ questioned her age and why she was there, in the Cross house. And for the first time in his life, he hadn't thought. He had just...looked. And he had made a mistake.

Thank goodness he _hadn't _taken Chase's advice.

Turning the key in the ignition, he sighed. He supposed in some kind of way, he should be relieved. He hadn't got as far as returning to ask her out, he hadn't done any more than choreograph her dance moves and converse with her, and he had gained a clearly talented and dedicated student.

Yes. But relief wasn't what was pulsing around Blake's body.

Blinking and swallowing hard, he began to pull out of the car park. Some classical music had started to play on the stereo and suddenly, not feeling in the mood for Mozart, Blake slammed his fist against the off button. He glanced down to see if it had turned itself off on not, but as he flicked his eyes back to the road he had to put his foot to the brake pedal quickly. In front of his car, mere feet from impact, stood Elizabeth Cross with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide with panic. She had obviously stepped out from behind another car with her head down, not seeing Blake and his car moving towards her. The SUV stalled instantly as Blake came off every pedal but the brake and the fell engine fell silent. He froze; his foot hovering over the clutch. Finally he slipped it into first, but couldn't take his eyes from her face. She raised a hand, her mouth and eyes still not smiling, and mouthed "sorry" to him before hurrying on across the lot to her car, wherever it was. He nodded in reply; though he was sure she didn't see, and put his stunned foot to the gas and pulled out onto the street.

Blake had barely got a few miles before he pulled into a gas station and went to buy a bottle of water. Taking a sip inside the car and resting his head on the steering wheel, he groaned. He had to rein it in. He had to keep together.

When he finally got home, he walked in and flicked on the TV, huffing as he threw himself back into an armchair. _Murder, She Wrote _was on. Blake let his mind wandered away with Jessica Fletcher for a few hours until Chase opened the door with his key, saw his brother and slowly took himself upstairs to his room without a word. Blake winced as he heard the bedroom. He had been a little rough with Chase. Perhaps he should apologise. But as Blake sat up, loud music came from the upstairs and he thought he'd better wait.

He settled back down, but nothing was distracting him. This was going to be a difficult year. He couldn't even nearly run her over without thinking how pretty she looked.


	5. Forgive and Forget

_**Dedicated to Twannee – who is leaving me for a while but will be with me in Twannee spirit. Faithful reviewer, encourager and awesome friend. Dream of Blake.**_

Chapter 5 – Forgive and Forget

Chase walked down the stairs the next morning to find his cereal already poured out, a glass of orange juice beside the bowl and a bottle of maple syrup. He raised an eyebrow. Blake was sitting at the opposite end of the table as usual, not looking at him, but instead reading a book. Chase couldn't contain his smug smile. This was Blake's way of saying sorry without saying it. Eventually, the older brother flicked his eyes up over his reading glasses and looked at Chase.

Chase rolled his eyes and sat down. The maple syrup had won it in the end. Blake usually hid it from him, but by presenting it on the table, his sincerity and apology was undeniable.

"So," Blake murmured as Chase squirted an obscene amount of the syrup over his candy loops, his tongue stuck out slightly so he looked as if he was concentrating hard, "I'm forgiven?"

"Meh," Chase shrugged, non-committal, with a mouthful of cereal.

Blake smirked and sat back, continuing with his book.

They sat quietly for a while; the only sound was Chase's loud chewing. Blake frowned as he turned the page of the battered novel he was reading once again. "So, you're teaching today?" Chase trod carefully, still mindful of how his brother had behaved yesterday.

"Yes," Blake said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "No more days off."

"Hey, they all turned up yesterday..." Chase grinned. "I'll admit they maybe didn't get _as much_ done as they would when you _instruct _us." Blake looked at him and smiled. "I'd be surprised if they had decided to do as they were told." He paused. "Mom wants to know if we'll go over for dinner this weekend."

Chase cringed. "Saturday night? Or Sunday lunch?"

"Sunday if it's easier." Another pause. "Why – what's happening Saturday?" As if he didn't already know the answer.

"I'm taking Andie out on a date," Chase said, with a slight hint of coyness. He coloured slightly and looked into his near empty bowl. "It's like...our third, so I'm not free."

"That's fine," Blake said, closing his book. "I just needed to know." _So I can fit in,_ he thought bitterly, realising his plans for Saturday included sitting down and doing administration work and maybe watching a film if he wasn't asleep by half nine.

*****

Elizabeth Cross fiddled with the combination of her locker for a few moments before it finally gave and the metal door swung open. Hanging her jacket inside and taking out what books she needed, she did a quick scan of the corridor. It was early, so not many students were on site yet. What a relief. It was obvious she was a new girl, and even though several others were also stamped with that label, Elle felt uncomfortable and exposed with so many people watching her unless she was dancing.

Walking swiftly to the library, where she figured she could hide for a while until it was time for home room, Elle swing past the main staircase, happening to glance up to see the back of the Director, Mr. Collins and the blonde boy who had worked the sound system yesterday, who she supposed must be Chase Collins. It didn't take much brains and an internet search engine to tell her that the Collins were the founders of the school, that Blake Collins had come back from the Royal Ballet School to take up the directorship and that Chase was hot tipped for RBS or somewhere else as prestigious. She kept her head down low and carried on walking. How awkward had it been yesterday? She cringed at the memory. First, Elle finds out that Blake Collins is her possible Director; a dancing legend and also a man who had seen her in her pyjamas, and _then _she is almost run over by him. Elle pushed the door to a studio and sighed deeply. It did not bode well for the year.

****

Andie was whispering to Chase when Blake walked in to teach them fourth and when his presence didn't break them apart, he resorted to singling them out. "Lovebirds; I know you think there is nothing more important than whispering sweet _nothings _into each other's ears, but I assure you, classical dance is far more important."

Chase smirked at Blake but moved aside anyway, leaving the class ready for Blake's instructions.

It was a gruelling lesson; those who needed to hadn't worked as hard as they should on their ballet over the summer and Director Collins knew that. Andie, who had admittedly not even thought about so much as her _feet positions _over the break, was beginning to feel a tight burn as she scissor jumped with the others. A smug look from Blake confirmed her worst suspicions; she may have ducked out of a few of her extracurricular classes but there was really no escape. This was punishment.

Chase kept a smile throughout the whole class, which unnerved Blake as he taught them. He knew _that _smile, all too well. It was the same smile that his eleven year old brother had plastered across his face when Chase had invited the girl that Blake had liked at the time around to the house for dinner and a look at some photographs. It was the same smile he had when Chase had set him up with their cousin's best friend who had a thing about beavers. It was the same smile Chase smiled every time he had a scheme, and it involved a _girl._

Desperate to leave the room before his brother could corner him and rope him into something unquestionably uncomfortable, he smiled and turned quickly on his heels while they all gathered their things. "Blake!" he heard Chase cry out. "I'm busy, Chase...meeting," he said still walking quickly. "Good work today guys," he added before darting into the corridor.

Blake let out a sigh of relief. Whatever he was planning he could forget it. Feeling an arm snake around his shoulders once more, he groaned inwardly. "Chase," he started. "I know, I _know _that you are up to _something_. I don't know what," he admitted as they walked together. "But I know I don't care."

Chase grinned and returned his arm to his side. "It wasn't my idea, it was Andie's. But I gotta admit," he let out a low whistle. "It's a good one."

"Good luck with it," Blake laughed with a sneer at his brother, stepping away from Chase who stopped in the corridor. Turning back to look at him but still walking, he called back, "_you two_ can do what you like; I'll not be a part of it, thank..."

He didn't manage to finish his sentence as he bumped into someone. Their books fell to the ground and Blake, who was a little surprised at someone being in his path stood still. Bending down to pick them up, he heard them sighing and muttering crossly. When their head rose, he felt the same uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that he had felt before. Elizabeth Cross was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and an indisputably angry face. "Not content with trying to run me over?" she said to him and he couldn't tell whether she was joking with him or not. He felt his mouth open slightly in surprise. Moving aside, she sighed once more and stalked off, hugging her folders tightly to her chest. "Miss Cross," Blake called out. She stopped. "Come to my office at lunch." She paused and nodded, before turning and carrying on the way she had been heading. Blake frowned, dumbstruck. He looked back at Chase, who shrugged, but nevertheless wore a mask of shock.

No student had spoken so rudely to him before, and Blake wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.


	6. The Trouble With Elizabeth

Chapter 6 – The Trouble With Elizabeth

It was a good few days before he could see her; he had completely forgotten that the lunchtime he had shouted to her in the corridor was also the lunchtime he was meeting with Matthew Rotherway and so he had to cancel, much to his annoyance. He had spent most of that day seething quietly as the surprise and horror turned into anger and embarrassment. Of course, he had not meant to bump into her, or run her over – not that he'd _actually _touched a hair on her damn head, Blake reminded himself – but her comment, serious or not, had bothered him and annoyed him.

"I never met someone so...hostile," Chase commented as they ate dinner that night. Blake looked up, surprised that someone else had seen it too. "Not just with you; although you seem to get the worst, she won't make contact with anyone."

Her coldness didn't go unnoticed. In the days that she had been there, she quickly gained the reputation as someone not to approach, though Andie tried more than once. "I'm in most of her classes," Andie sighed. "But I can't get her to talk to me. It's all one word, or short sentences." Moose, who had succeeded with Andie failed miserably when Elle shot him down. Kido was rebuffed. Hair was declined. At least Monster was let down gently. "She told me she had things to do," he smiled. "And then she went to the studio."

Even Chase didn't win her over with his charms. Although secretly, Blake considered that to be a happy victory.

His new Classical Ballet class, which Elle was a member of, let out a sigh of relief and gratitude when he finally said they could leave after the studio. He had put them through their paces, making sure that they knew it would not be an easy ride. That was probably the mistake he had made with Andie and the others. "Miss Cross," he said coldly after the lesson. She looked at him as she pulled off her ballet shoes and then let her eyes flicker to the class that was leaving. "Yes, sir?"

"You're to come to my office today; I'm free this lunch," he said picking up his suit jacket, not looking at her. "We still need to discuss your behaviour from the other day." She nodded and gathered her things, leaving quickly.

When his secretary opened the door and let Elizabeth in, Blake looked up from his desk and felt the same creeping heat on the back of his neck that he had experienced every time he had seen her. Frowning, and shut his laptop down with some force to show that he was angry, he gestured to the seat opposite him with a raised eyebrow. Elizabeth, whose normally passive face showed some signs of nervousness, took off her duffel bag and sat down, keeping her eyes on her feet.

"I trust you understand why you're here," Blake began, in clipped tones, crossing his fingers and sitting back.

"Yes," she said quietly. Blake felt a twinge of sympathy; the remorse on her face was struggling free of the careful lock she was trying to keep it under.

"It is entirely _unacceptable_ for you to speak to me in that manner," he continued. "I have never been spoken to like that by a student, and I do not intend for you to begin." That wasn't completely true; Chase belittled him in front of students most days, but they were _related. _That was kind of expected, as much as Blake detested it.

Elle nodded. She opened her mouth to speak but he didn't let her start. "You're lucky only my brother stood in the corridor; but there just of easily could have been more people."

He leaned forward slightly and spoke in a low voice. "I will not stand for any student of mine talking to me like that. Do you understand?"

She nodded again, not meeting his eyes. He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. "Is there a reason that you attacked me verbally in the corridor? Are you not...finding your feet?" She _had _seemed tense, and now she looked sheepish in the large chair, avoiding his face, genuinely repentant.

"No. I'm sorry," she said softly. "I was out of line. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that." Blake swallowed and raised an eyebrow. "It won't happen again," she added.

"No, it will not," Blake reiterated firmly. He looked at his watch. "Did you enjoy the lesson today?" he asked awkwardly. She nodded. "Well, you can leave; lunch is almost over."

Her head shot up and she looked at the clock on the wall. Watching her closely, Blake frowned. What was that expression? Disappointment? Understandable; no student liked to be kept from lunch, and he had purposefully made her wait outside his office.

"Thank you, and sorry again Director Collins," she said as she rose, grabbing her bag and walking out of the door. He sat quietly for a moment and leaned his head back on the chair. After a while he leaned forward and pressed the intercom button on his phone. "Barbara," he said into the tiny microphone, "would you be kind enough to bring me Elizabeth Cross' file please?"

*****

She had certainly led a busy life so far. Her father, Henry, had been assigned to military duty in Iraq when Elle was only seven and there she had lived until very recently. Mother died over there...Blake read on and worked out that it must have been when she was fourteen. Her travel history was practically an essay but he expected no less from the daughter of a military family. Her electives were dancing, of course, and History of Dance. She could play piano. Flicking across, he raised an eyebrow. In the column marked "type of dance you have been trained in" she had written a list that extended out of the box. Ballet, tap, modern, jazz, salsa...Blake marvelled at what seemed to be an extensive range of dancing ability.

She had only one brother, who was at Stamford.

She'd been dancing since she was five, but Blake already knew that.

Her favourite colour was blue.

Closing the file and sighing, Blake didn't feel like he knew anymore about Elle than when he'd started. He'd got a skeleton before him; the bare bones of her life and what made her who she was, and he had an uncontrollable and unexplainable urge to flesh it out.


	7. Humility Smarts

Chapter 7 – Humility Smarts

It wasn't as difficult to keep a covert eye on Elizabeth as Blake had imagined; he had his classes with her, and eyes and ears in the form of Chase and Andie. What _was_ difficult was speaking to her; she was still ignoring everyone and was nowhere to be seen at lunchtimes. "She can't be going home. You'd have to sign her out, right?" Chase muttered to his brother when they had a quiet moment. Blake nodded.

It was a good three weeks before Blake discovered her hiding place.

Quite by chance he was walking through the older part of the school which, over the summer, was meant to have been renovated. However, with the board of governors and the benefactors of the school paying through the nose for the new parts of MSA; the new classrooms and studios that were supposed to smack of the "change is good" slogan he'd been charged to promote, the older areas had been used less and were more for rehearsing or just plain fun. Of course, all the students preferred the newer facilities and if there was any rehearsing to be done, it would be done there.

The low hum of music reached Blake's ears as he walked and read the mock up of next year's prospectus. Startled, he looked up. It was not unusual to hear music within a performing arts school. However, the corridor was near deserted apart from a few actors who were painting sets. "Where is that coming from?" he asked a girl with round glasses and braids. She looked up, holding a paint brush which was in danger of dripping. "Urm," she started, squinting down the corridor. "Studio 9 – the one with the long single window. There's a girl in there," she added, watching his expression. He stared down the corridor to where the old studio was. "She comes here most days," piped up another actor, who was wearing a trilby.

"Thank you," he murmured before heading there. The music, which was getting louder as he neared the room, was a song he had heard before but couldn't quite place. The female vocals were quick as well as a fast paced beat.

He could see Elizabeth as he approached the glass, who was dancing in leggings and a t-shirt. She moved quickly, effortlessly even, in time with the track, which was now drawing to a close. As it did so, she finished with it and waited for the next song to begin blaring out from the tiny stereo in the corner, pacing and pointing her toes in the mean time. This track was slower and so she moved slower; using more ballet technique this time. _The look of concentration on her face,_ Blake thought as he stared. Complete focus. She was not thinking about anything but the timing of the music and the tread of her feet on the floor. Opening the door, he stepped in but she hadn't heard, so he stood and waited for her to finish.

When it came to the middle, he began to recognise it; although now the movements she had shown him were more fluid and practised. The chaînés turns worked brilliantly by ending in fourth momentarily before sweeping round into another serious of leaps. Turning, she opened her eyes and spotted him, jumping out of her skin as she did so, and nearly losing her balance entirely. Pausing the track, she tried to catch her breath and looked at him wide eyed. "Director Collins," she managed to say, her voice slightly raspy.

"Hello," he replied with one hand thrust into his pocket.

"What...are you...what are you doing here?" she asked reaching for a bottle of water. He could see the gleam of a thin layer of sweat on her forehead and collarbones but looking elsewhere, he said, "I was about to ask you the same thing, Miss Cross."

She looked at him strangely. "Dancing. Why, am I not supposed to be in here?"

He shook his head. "No, no, you can use this area. I just didn't think anyone _would._ Seeing that the new studios are open."

She pulled a face, having caught her breath. "These are perfectly fine. The floor just needs vanishing. Besides," she added, "everyone's in...the new ones," she said slowly, suddenly realising Blake was watching her with a bemused expression. "Was something the matter?"

"I saw your routine. The steps we worked through look even better when set to music," he said, as way of conversation. She nodded fiercely. "Much better, thank you again." She looked down at her feet.

"What are you...rehearsing for?" he asked with a frown, looking around the room. It was dustier in here and she was right, the floor was scratched to within an inch of its life.

She shrugged. "The showcase, I suppose."

"You suppose?" he said with a raised eyebrow. "But that's months away. In June."

"It doesn't hurt to be prepared."

Blake felt his mouth open in surprise. He hadn't met a student yet who was beginning to piece together their final showcase this early. Not even Sophie. It was unheard of to begin before Christmas, seeing as the academic exams came first.

"Well," he said, before coughing and looking at his watch. "Don't hesitate to look for help if you need it." She nodded. "Thank you, sir."

He turned away to go but glanced back. She was already re-tying a wayward ribbon, not paying any attention to him. Her ponytail had fallen forward, flopping over her head as she hung upside down.

"Cross," he said. She looked up, startled he was still there and gave him a rare smile, though it _was_ faint. "Keep up the good work," he said, before turning on his heels and striding out.

Elizabeth straightened out and put her hands on her hips, watching him go with a bemused expression.

*****

The extra rehearsals didn't stop there. He walked by the studio over the following weeks to see if she'd returned – something that he was careful not to be too conspicuous about, for fear of arousing suspicion in the thespians he had encountered before – and she was there, each day, without fail. One day it would be classical ballet, to something like Mozart, the next a modern dance. He had returned to see her reaction to the newly vanished floors; though it was difficult to tell if she was pleased at all.

And it went beyond lunchtimes. Chase said he saw her after school most days in the studio, the newer one this time. Blake supposed with no one to fight for it (no one was rehearsing for anything yet) the big hall was fair game. He didn't dare 'accidently' walk by to see what she was up to, but he knew she would be tirelessly working on her so called routine for her final showcase. Relentless, but still friendless, Blake became increasingly worried about Elizabeth's focus on her dance. He had never met anyone so entirely...he struggled to think of an adjective to describe it...dependant, on the art of dancing. She shunned everyone and everything else in favour of it and even Blake, who was known for his focus and the tendency to prioritise it above most things, was beginning to see her behaviour as worrying, dangerous even.

The final straw came on a Wednesday, in November.

Blake was pushing his way through the students on his way to his office when he realised the increase in teenagers in the corridor was due to a commotion further down. There was a general murmur and bustle as people stopped, mumbled to their friends and craned their neck to see what was going on. Blake found himself raising his chin to catch a glimpse of the scene. When he finally did see it, he couldn't stop his mouth from opening partly.

Elizabeth was furiously tearing down paper from the walls and lockers of the corridor. Even without crying, the raw emotion on her face was terrifying and it was obvious she was upset. As she turned with a handful of papers, he saw a flash in her eyes; almost murderous and definitely stormy. He kept quiet for now.

"Who did this?" she spat angrily, and he was surprised because she didn't normally give more than a few syllables to her fellow students.

"Who _did _this?" she repeated waving the papers in the air. Blake lifted his foot to see one; a picture of her, taken while she danced, had been edited (badly) in Photoshop; someone had drawn a crown on top of her head and a box of electrical buttons on her chest. The text below said _"Today's poll – Elizabeth Cross: Ice Queen or Heartless Robot? Tick appropriate box_" Blake suddenly felt her anger. This was not like MSA students.

"Ok, ok," he said finally, breaking through the crowd, until he was in the space where she stood. "What's going on, Elle?" he said, saying her first name so she might calm down. She looked at him.

"What's wrong?" she said. "Some moron thinks it's hilarious to pass judgement on other people's characters." She wasn't talking to him anymore; she said it loudly, so everyone could hear. Blake saw Chase's face in the crowd, standing beside Andie. They looked shocked too.

"Elle," he reasoned. "It's ok; we'll find out who did this, they'll be reprimanded." She turned to look at him, taking a deep breath and nodded. He put out a hand which she placed the papers in. "Right everyone!" he called out. "Take these down for Miss. Cross please!" The students murmured but began to move.

"Director Collins," said a voice to his right. It was a stocky musician who he recognised as Felix Detroit, a new junior who he had spoken to on more than one occasion. "It was me Director," the boy said, not looking at Elizabeth who was staring at him with horror. The crowd stopped to listen again. "I made the posters and put them up; but it was only meant it be a joke...you know, because you're so standoffish with everyone," he said looking at her finally. "We didn't think she'd take it so..."

He didn't manage to finish as Elizabeth, swinging her full body force into her right arm, went to hit him and made a sharp _crack_ as her fist connected with Felix's face. The boy, completely unprepared, fell down, bracing his fall with open palms. Blake moved quickly. Wrapping _his_ arms around Elle's front, he felt the force with which she was shaking with rage. "Miss Cross," he said in a low hiss, by her ear. "Control yourself and then go sit outside my office."

Felix looked up from the ground with alarm in his eyes. She'd hit him well; the bruise was already surfacing, a gash of blood streaked across his cheek and the swelling had begun. Blake looked at her clenched fist. She wasn't even wearing a ring on that hand. "Miss Cross," he repeated, angrily. He felt her body relax and as she did so, he let go of her. "Office. Now," he said, exerting his authority. No one around them dared speak.

"Hilarious," she said quietly, looking at Felix. Chase had stepped forward and went to help the boy up. Elizabeth exhaled deeply and pushed through the crowd. Blake looked at his brother with a frown. "Take him to the medical room, will you Chase?" The blonde haired boy nodded but couldn't smile. "And Detroit, when you're done, you can make your way to my office too." He ran his fingers though his hair. "The request still stands. I want these papers destroyed. Recycled. Whatever makes you happy; just get them out of my school!" He looked at Andie with a pleading expression and she nodded, beginning to take them down and encouraging others to do the same.

Blake sighed deeply, and started towards the office, preparing himself for the onslaught that followed.


	8. Ripples

Chapter 8 – Ripples

Blake smiled weakly at his secretary as he handed her a stack of papers he'd torn down himself on the way there. "Shred these, please," he said quietly. Turning he saw Elizabeth sat on a chair outside the door, staring ahead with her head resting on the wall. He opened the door and she looked at him. "In," he said. Silently, she graced by him and sat in the chair she had been in only weeks before. Blake walked across the office after shutting the door tightly and sat opposite her in his big black chair, resting his elbows on the table. Elizabeth managed to look up at him to see that his face was grave and he was clenching his jaw. He raised an eyebrow. "Well?" he said.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly and for the first time, Blake heard sincerity in her voice.

"You assaulted another student, Elle."

"Please don't kick me out," she said, looking down. Blake's face softened briefly. "I'm not going to expel you; obviously, I'll have to talk to your father and this can't go unpunished. But," he added with a sigh, "I can't deny you weren't provoked so I really have no grounds to expel you."

"Thank you, sir."

"But we need to talk about this."

She looked confused. "I don't understand."

"This isn't just about today, Elizabeth." He paused and sat back. "I'm talking about your attitude in general. I have no qualms with your academic studies, and you're one of the best dancers in the school, but I am deeply concerned about your behaviour."

She narrowed her eyes slightly and crossed her arms. "I've been in this office _twice_ and you think I have an attitude problem?"

"This is exactly what I mean," Blake said, laugh slightly. "You're hostile and unfriendly and you talk to me...and others..." he added," Like they're nothing."

"Well, I apologise for not being particularly gifted at making friends..."

"I think this runs deeper," Blake interrupted. "I think you're too focused on dance."

The girl in front of him said nothing; merely exhaled deeply through and stuck her tongue in her cheek. "You disagree?" he asked. "Of course I disagree," she retorted.

"OK then, you won't mind answering a few questions and that'll give you a chance to prove that you're not." He sat forward with a smirk; he knew he had the upper hand although she was becoming more irritated by the second. Elle shrugged, and scooped her hair, which had been hanging wildly about her shoulders, up into a ponytail. "Ask away."

"How much time do you spend in the studio dancing?"

She pulled a face. "Urm...I don't know."

"Is that an 'I can't remember' I-don't know or an 'I've lost track because I'm in there so often' I-don't know'?" Blake asked raising an eyebrow.

She smirked. "I don't know how long I spend in there. Lessons, certainly."

"Yes, and lunch and recess..."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I like to dance," she said simply.

"Ok. After you been here, after school I mean, you go home?"

"Yes." Her tone was clipped now.

"Do you begin straight away?"

"No. I do chores and homework _first_," Elizabeth sighed, looking at her fingernails.

"And then," Blake smiled. "Then, you go dance." It didn't come out as a question, because he already knew the answer.

Elle took a deep breath. "Yes, until I go to bed. Which is between half nine and ten, usually, if you wanted to know. Oh and I sleep in the foetal position and my bed spread is blue at the moment."

He ignored her scathing tone and carried on with a frown. "Do you have a part time job?"

"Yes," she said smugly, sitting back.

"Well," he said with a raised eyebrow, jotting down some notes. "I suppose that's a start. Where do you work?"

She opened her mouth slightly but no words came out. She looked away causing Blake to cock his head slightly and frown. "Well?"

"I work on Saturdays for Madame Prozorov..." she trailed off and tried to ignore the triumphant smile he had. His face drew very serious as he sat back once more. "You work for Martina, in Studio 14?"

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth.

"The ballet studio. Teaching young children ballet."

"Yes."

"Hmph. I should have guessed." Blake picked up her file and opened it. She craned forward to have a look but he raised it and put it in his lap. Pulling out his reading glasses from his top pocket he scanned the page. "You've obviously completely devoted your life to the study of dance, but honestly and truly, did you really 'spend a week in Turkey studying the dervish way of dancing'?"

"No; it was a holiday. I did it for one day."

Blake looked over his glasses at her. "But you trained with a group of 'whirling dervishes'?"

"Yes."

"You can really Turkish dance?"

"Yes. Did you _really _do a Gap commercial?" She looked indignant and Blake felt his body tense with quiet anger.

"That is neither relevant to this conversation nor something I would talk about with a student," he said icily. "And _that_ is exactly the attitude I'm talking about." Elizabeth fell silent under his disdainful look and he felt the panic creeping up his neck subside. He _hated _talking about the Gap commercial.

"The fact still remains," Blake continued after some time, "that you have no balance in your life. The scales all tipped one way, in favour of dance." He watched her closely. "You really have nothing to say on the matter?"

Elizabeth's eyes had glazed over; she was running her thumbnail along her bottom lip, staring off somewhere. "I can't believe I hit him," she murmured, almost to herself. "I've never hit anyone before."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, I'm sure that will bring great comfort to Felix; to know that he was your first," he said sarcastically and Elle's eyes flicked up to meet his in reply. He could see clearly her annoyance. "He's going to have a nasty bruise for a good few weeks." He paused. "You've never hit anyone before? That _honestly_ was your first time?"

"I…"

Blake shook his head and waved a hand. "Never mind, never mind. I shouldn't have asked." He sighed. "I'm going to have to speak to your father about this you realise?"

"Yes," Elle muttered. "I wish you wouldn't."

Blake stared at her for a moment before shaking his head and standing. "You may go." Elizabeth rose from her seat too and looked at him sadly. "I am sorry; I'll apologise to Felix…I…" she stopped and frowned, her eyes dropping to the ground in what seemed to be confusion. "I don't normally lose control like that."

Blake said nothing.

Elizabeth gave him a weak smile, which he tried to return but all that happened was that his jaw muscled twitched slightly from the tight clench he had it in. "Elizabeth," he said before she reached the door. "I'm sorry that this happened to you. I have no doubt Mr. Detroit will apologise but…this is not like my students to…victimise another. I'm sorry that had to happen to you. He will be dealt with."

She shook her head. "Don't be too hard on him."

"Oh no, I think you did that for me," Blake replied. She laughed mirthlessly and shut the door behind her quietly. Blake exhaled deeply before walking back to his chair and letting himself sink in to it for a few minutes while his mind rested from the last forty minutes.


	9. Taking The Offensive

_A/N:__ Hey everyone – sorry it's been so long, but I've been majorly busy but I'm back on track with my Blake FF now (Whoop) and as usual, feedback is appreciated. Thanks! RdF_

Chapter 9 – Taking The Offensive

Blake pulled on the cuff of his shirt as he waited for the door to be answered. He hadn't rang ahead, and he knew his visit to the Cross Manor would be...unpopular, to say the least, but he had told Elizabeth he was going to speak with her father and if nothing else then he could say the Blake Collins was a man of his word. Besides, she was puzzling and he needed to get to the bottom of it. Being an old friend of the family might have some sway; Henry Cross was good friends with his father, and so he might not mind the uninvited intrusion.

"Good evening?" said a woman in staff uniform who had opened the door. Light from the inside spilled out to where he stood, making him blink hard, and she raised a carefully plucked eyebrow at him. He recognised her as the family maid; she'd been taking care of them house for years, and on his visits as a child he remembered Chase making fun of her, and leaving gum wrappers littered across the floor to irritate her.

"Good evening," he said politely. "I was wondering if Major Henry Cross is home – I need to speak to him about his daughter." She regarded him shrewdly before giving him a cordial smile.

"May I ask who's calling, sir?" she said. He didn't let the wound of her not remembering him strike deep – after all, he had been the one who was cowering from her in the shadows, and reprimanding Chase.

"Blake Collins."

She nodded, paused and stepped out of the way of the door. "Come in," she said. "I'll go see if he's available."

Blake had seen the Cross residence many times, and only a week ago. It looked unchanged, but this time, the loud chatter of thirty party guests couldn't be heard; in its place however, he could hear classical music, very quiet and distance. _Elizabeth_, he thought to himself, removing his coat and slinging it over his arm. He turned and looked in a mirror that hung in the foyer. He'd worn a tie this time, but it had gone askew, so he adjusted it in his reflection.

"Blake Collins," said the all-American man behind him in the mirror. Blake turned on his heels and smiled at him. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Didn't get enough at the dinner party the other night?"

"Well, no, that's not it," Blake replied, laughing quietly and handing the woman his coat for her to hang up. "I've come to talk to you about your daughter."

Henry Cross was an amiable man; very tall, lean and muscular – the physique you would expect from a man who spend most of his life in the military – with kind eyes, and greying hair that had finally been allowed to grow past a rigid crew cut, and was now slightly shaggy. His face fell from one of welcoming to great sadness when Blake mentioned Elizabeth, and managing a weak smile, he gestured for the Director too move through into the living room area and then again through another mahogany door to Henry's study.

"I'm sorry to trouble you," Blake said, sitting down on a sofa when he was gestured to. "I realise it's quite late, and I should have rang ahead but I was passing by and there's a few...issues...with Elizabeth I may need to discuss with you sooner rather than later."

"I know," Henry sighed, sitting down and rubbing his chin. Blake looked at him in surprise. "You're not the first teacher I've had tell me that my daughter has a few 'issues' as you say, and if you're going to expel her, I doubt you'll be the last."

"Expel her?" Blake shook his head. "No, no, no. I don't want to expel her. "I just think I should make you aware of what's going on. Teacher parent communication. It's a big policy at MSA," he added, with a nervous smile. Henry surveyed him and nodded for him to continue.

"So what did she do this time?"

"This time?" Blake asked. "Well, I don't know what she's done before, but she – under provocation I'll add – attacked another student."

Major Cross closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "She attacked a student?"

"He started a bullying campaign against her, and she punched him in the face," Blake said, matter of factly. "I spoke to her at great lengths, and she's sorry, but as I told her, I thought it best to discuss it with you."

"Did the boy need stitches?" Henry asked incredulously.

Blake frowned and looked at him with a confused expression. "Stitches? No, no, he's just bruised and has a little cut. Although, I don't think he'll target anyone ever again, least of all Elizabeth." He smiled to himself when he remembered the cowardice he had seen in the boy's face when Elizabeth walked over to apologise to him in the waiting room of MSA.

"Well I guess that's an improvement," Henry muttered, and he looked so forlorn that Blake didn't push it any further, though curiosity was almost burning within him. This wasn't the first time, and the previous victims had needed _stitches_? Blake fought a smile. He sat forward and put his hands together.

"I'm...concerned. This incident aside, I'm afraid I may have to discuss her attitude with you anyway. She's withdrawn, she's made no attempt to make friends, and she spends every spare second of her time dancing. Believe me, I have dedicated my life to dance, and yet _I _think she's going too far."

"It's not affecting her studies is it?" Henry said, looking shocked. "Because I let her dance only on the understanding..."

"No, _no,_" Blake said, standing up. It was difficult reasoning with a father who kept asking him questions. Henry looked at him, in the same way his father had looked at him whenever Chase got in trouble; a look of disappointment, anger, and concern. "I'm proposing a compromise."

Henry opened his mouth to speak but the latch to his study turned and in walked in Elizabeth, hair tied back and in dance sweats. She was frowning, dangling some ballet shoes from one hand and holding a drinks bottle in the other when she looked to her father and half smiled out of politeness.

"Dad, I'm going up to bed, and I said Lucinda could sign off too..."

Her eyes caught sight of Blake; she blinked and her brow knitted together into one angry glare. "What the hell are you doing here?" she said stiffly, crossing her arms.

"Elizabeth!" her father cried. "That is no way to speak to your teacher, let alone a guest within this house."

"I'm sorry," she smiled sweetly. "What the hell are you doing here, _sir?_" Her expression was sulky, and her father didn't challenge her.

"I told you that I would have to speak to your father about the incident with Felix," he started.

"Yeah, I thought you meant over the phone!" she said, putting her hands on her hips and sighing. She shook her head, and her fringe fell across her eyes, masking their emotion from the men's view.

"What do you want anyway?" she sighed again, ignoring her father's reproachful glare.

"I was just discussing with your father what options there were for you and your education," Blake said curtly, resenting her cold demeanour towards him once again. He should expect it, he supposed, but that didn't mean he should stand for it. "I promised I wasn't going to kick you out," he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, although he wasn't quite sure he could muster it. "However, you're attitude has to change and I have a proposal as to how to go about it."

"What? Are you going to force me to spend time with people?" she said with a smirk and looking at her bare feet.

"Yes," Blake said simply, staring at her.

The outrage on her face would have been fairly comical if Blake had been observing, but as it were, he was going to be on the receiving end of it, he felt slightly uneasy. He just had to remember, although she had gotten one over on Felix, he was tall and more likely stronger than her, and her father was standing beside him. Surveying her thin frame, he concluded, he could get away _without _stitches.

"You can't do that," she said in low threatening tone. "You can't make someone be friends with someone else. It defies the idea of friendship. No one wants to talk to me anyway," she added coldly.

"Is it any wonder Elizabeth, if you're behaving as you normally do," her father scolded. "I can't believe you punched a boy."

She looked at him incredulously, and then back to Blake. "Did you not tell him what he did to me?"

Blake opened his mouth but Henry replied over the top of him. "Yes he did, but you can't go around hitting people who upset you. I had to tell your brother this in Kindergarten, Elizabeth, not in his senior year!"

"And who taught me how to hit someone _Dad_? You're in the military. I'm supposed to believe you never used your fists to stand up for yourself. I saw red. I'm sorry. I lost control. It won't happen again. So long as _he,_" she said aggressively, jabbing a finger in Blake's direction, "Just lets me get on with what I'm comfortable with."

Blake stuck his hands in his pockets. "It's not how you think, Elle. I'm just suggesting that you be banned from studio practice until rehearsal for the final showcase normally begins, and that during the time you would normally spend dancing, you spend with a group of students who will make your time at MSA more comfortable."

She stared at him. "You're unbelievable." She paused. "You're gonna give them extra credit right? Because hanging around with me..." She pulled a face to go with her biting sarcasm. "Gee, that's gotta be a killer."

"Consider what I'm saying," Blake pressed, clenching his jaw in between sentences to calm himself. "It will give you the opportunity to create a healthy balance in your life, instead of your sole focus being on dancing. What you do at home, is your own business. I can't come round and tell you want to do in your own free time, but at my school, on my time, you'll do as I ask. If you want to attend MSA," he said with a warning glance. "Am I clear?"

"Crystal," she said blankly, swallowing, and matching his cold stare.

"I'm also suggesting," he added, still with an icy tone. "That perhaps you might benefit from some one-to-one tutorage. You're far more advanced than a lot of our students, and you get bored. If you're without your own rehearsal time, perhaps it might be valuable to gain some time with a tutor who's willing to take you that extra step." He put his hands back in his pockets again, and let her do the working out for herself.

"You?" she said with a disdainful expression.

"That part is optional, but the other half is not. I won't give my time to someone who isn't one hundred percent committed," he added shortly. He knew that might get to her; she certainly would resent any suggestion she didn't try her utmost to be the best at what she did. Her expression, however, was unreadable and if she was angry she didn't show it this time; she looked from her father to Blake again with strange eyes.

She took a deep breath and finally spoke. "We'll talk about the 'buddy system' at school tomorrow. I'm tired and I want to go to bed." And with that, she turned and headed for the door, slamming it behind her. Both men in the room breathed heavily and Blake looked to Henry.

"I hope you don't think I was too forward there," he said crossing his arms. "I realise you're her father. I didn't mean to lecture your daughter right in front of you."

"Its fine Blake," Henry sighed, waving a hand. "I'm glad someone finally looked past her anger and wanted to do something right for her. And that includes me," he sighed, rubbing his eyes.

Blake moved back to the sofa and sat down. "What can you tell me about her? I hope you don't think I'm prying but she's something of an enigma, and I don't think I can reach the bottom of the problem without a bit if background detail, as it were." He watched the Major closely, looking out for something he might have missed. "If you'll forgive me, Henry, but it seems that you two have a somewhat turbulent relationship."

Henry scoffed where he stood and delved his hands into his own pockets. He began to pace, looking up to the ceiling before beginning his story.

"My wife, Diane, sadly passed away nearly five years ago now." Blake nodded and put his hand to his jaw as he listened. "We were living out in the Middle East; I was stationed there, and we took the children wherever we went. It was a low conflict area – we'd never had much trouble – but obviously it has increased over recent years. Elizabeth and her mother were shopping, her brother Dashall was at home studying. There was a suicide bomber," Henry said gravely, looking to Blake with sad eyes. "In the town centre. My wife was killed instantly; Elizabeth escaped with only a few scars. Diane was closer to the man, whilst Elle had been looking elsewhere."

"She blames you for her mother's death," Blake mused softly, as the pieces came together. His mind flashed back to the silvery scar on the side of Elizabeth's face but he shook his head, and return to the conversation.

Henry nodded. "Diane had expressed a desire to return to America, and so had our children. I resolved that we should stay until the New Year, I could put in for a transfer then, and the children could round of the semester at their school."

"And so she believes if you'd have returned when her mother asked..."

"She'd still be alive today." The elder man sniffed and cleared his throat.

"Is that the case?" Blake trod carefully.

"Yes," Henry muttered. "If I'd have listened to her...it would have been the easiest thing in the world to get a transfer. I was a high ranking officer. They wouldn't have denied me that. If I'd have asked..."

Blake didn't know quite what to say to the man; he was obviously upset and Blake didn't know how to deal with tears very well, especially in a six foot army major. He swallowed and rose.

"It's not your fault," Blake said simply. "And I'm sure Elle can be made to see that too."

"Thank you Blake," Henry sniffed. "It's good to see your father's school in good hands." Blake stiffened, and the other man was probably unaware of how tightly Blake had clenched his jaw. _It is not my father's school_, he thought to himself, frowning at his watch.

"Yes, well, I won't impose any longer. I'll be in touch should there be anything else the matter with Elizabeth. Good night Henry. I'll see myself out." He smiled politely at the man, shook his hand and glanced away from the gratitude in Henry's eyes.

The cool air of the evening was welcome, but not for long; Blake began to shiver on the way to his SUV. Still, it had not gone terribly; a little explosion from Elizabeth was to be expected. And glancing back to the house and seeing a curtain twitch on the first floor, Blake realised that her explosions were something he almost looked forward to.


End file.
